Call My Name
by NiftyKitchenKnives
Summary: A few years after their fateful detention hall meeting, the Breakfast Club has moved on to college. Will everything change? Or will friendships stay the same? Rated for language, and potential later content.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

John Bender desperately tried to ignore the metallic clang of his alarm clock. He had been having a great dream about red hair, soft skin, and pink lip gloss. Groaning, he opened his eyes and slammed his hand down to silence the alarm. He let himself come to, looking up at the ceiling of his new apartment. Today was his first day and the University of Chicago. As soon as high school had ended, he had gotten himself a job and his own place. Life had all of a sudden been pretty good. Sure, he had to work long hours to make rent, and he had less time to spend with his then girlfriend, Claire, but it had been worth it.

He'd spent two years at the community college in Shermer and discovered that, away from his parents and that asshole Dick "don't mess with the bull" Vernon, he was actually a pretty smart guy. He'd gotten all A's, and had come out with a 3.9 GPA and an Associate's Degree in Architecture. It was his GPA that had earned him a scholarship at the UC, and his designs that had earned him a spot in their cut-throat Architectural Design program.

Of course, thinking about high school brought his mind right back to the dream he had been having. Just like every other night, Claire had come and taken over his sleeping hours. Since that was his only way to see her, now, he was alright with it.

He recalled the Monday after that fateful day in the detention hall, and that kiss in the closet, and the diamond earring that had been pressed into his palm. He had walked to school, head still reeling from an early morning "interaction" with his old man. He had held very little hope that Claire's looking at him, let alone touching him, had been anything more than a brief moment of teen daring. Things like getting her for a girlfriend simply didn't happen to him. But, against all odds, in spite of every word he'd thrown in her face, and every word she'd thrown back, there she'd been, leaning against his locker talking to Allison like it was the most normal thing in the world. When she had turned and smiled at him, his world had narrowed to simply watching the corner of her lips turn up, and concentrating on not tripping.

As expected, the princess and the burnout had been a completely huge deal. All of Claire's former "friends" abandoned her, celebrating her social death by letting slip every dirty little secret they knew. Granted, there weren't many, and they weren't all that dirty, but he had known it hurt her more than she let on.

He grunted, and shook himself. He needed to get her out of his head. It had been years, now. She was probably married to some rich, country club member, on her way to popping out their first little richie kid.

He showered quickly and grabbed his books before heading out the door. Hell, maybe today he'd even meet a girl who came close to measuring up to Claire, and he could try to start forgetting her.

* * *

Claire paced her living room floor, every now and then glancing up at the clock. Her class wasn't until 11:30, but she had gotten up early and hadn't had to work this morning, so all she'd had to do was pace, drink coffee, and worry. She was in her junior year, finally, and she and Alison had started drawing up financial plans to start their own fashion design company. No one had really been shocked when Claire had declared her interest in becoming a fashion design major, but a couple of jaws had dropped when Alison followed suit. Now, their styles had become so integrated that they regularly swapped and modified each other's clothes.

Today she was wearing a one-of-a-kind Ali design, and she let herself worry about that instead of the class she was kicking herself for signing up for. The long black sleeves hung in tatters around her wrists, clashing with the hot pink main body of the shirt. The long purple skirt that flowed out around her ankles flounced when she walked, and showed off her hand-painted Chuck Taylor's. Her old friends from high school would have immediately labeled her a social reject, if they hadn't done that years a go.

Claire smiled at that. At the time, it had killed her that almost no one in her "clique" was accepting of the fact that she was in a relationship with John, but as it turned out, that had been the best thing that could have happened to her.

Now, she had three of the greatest friends she could ask for, she laughed more, and she was eventually going to own her own label and business. Yup, life was pretty much good, except for that fact that, secretly, she knew her heart was still broken.

She and John had officially gotten together one week after their detention. They had stayed together through the end of the school year, and into the summer. Eventually, sweet gentle kisses had led to rough and sweet touches. Those rough and sweet touches had led to sweet, rough, gentle, and totally mind-blowing sex.

That had been the best night of her life. Granted, that had been the only night she'd been with a guy in her life, but she still thought it probably wasn't about to be topped anytime soon.

The next night, the whole of their little breakfast club had agreed to meet at a friend's part, the final big bash of the summer before everyone drifted away and went off to school. John was staying in Shermer, but the rest of them were off to Chicago. Claire hadn't been worried about the distance because she was in love with John, and he was in love with her. At least, she had thought so anyhow.

That night, getting ready, she had agonized over her outfit. Her first experience with John had made her want to be a little daring, and she ended up borrowing a rocker-chic black top from Alison to go with her brand new black jeans. Red tennis shoes and a cute little red bandanna around her neck completed her ensemble.

She still remembered like it was yesterday. She had practically bounced into the party, excited to see her friends, but more excited to see John. She had hoped he'd like the new outfit, though she was pretty sure he didn't really care in the long run.

Alison's instantly worried look, and her hand gripping Claire's, had been her only warning. Turning to look in the direction Alison faced, Claire felt her heart shatter. John was already at the party. With a girl. That girl's hands were…everywhere on him.

Claire had let out what felt like a scream, but would discover later that it sounded more like "meep" and run out of the house. Alison had followed, consoling her. She had spent the night at Claire's, and Andy and Brian had eventually joined them via the window. It was a mutual decision that, after that night, they would never talk about the incident again. The unspoken, nearly mutual, decision was that none of them would really be talking to John again.

So Claire had started her freshman year with major heart-ache and too many loose ends to tie up. The fresh 15 came and went, but she didn't much care either way. Then, Alison had suggested she do something creative to channel her hurt. She had sat down at a drafting board, picked up a pencil, and never looked back.

Which brought her back to the present, and the infuriatingly slow clock. Alison had left long before, off to a color theory class. This year, Claire had decided to be daring and step outside of her normal class purview. Today that daring was coming to fruition in the form of the Architectural Theory class she was dreading.

It was 10:45 now. If she drove, she would get to class in plenty of time to get a good seat. After looking at the required reading, she was pretty sure she'd need it.

She grabbed a last quick look in the mirror, absently noted that her blue highlights would need a touch-up, and smiled at herself. "You can do this, Claire Standish. You've been to Hell and back, and you came away with a t-shirt. This is just a class." A quick tug on her shirt, and she was out the door.

* * *

Brian waited outside the cafeteria for Alison to get out of class, They were supposed to have lunch together, since Claire and Andy were occupied, before he headed off to Organic Chem, and she headed off to work.

"Hey big Bri," he heard from behind him. The familiar, long unheard voice knocked him out of his thoughts. He turned and didn't bother to fight the smile that lit up his face.

"Hey, Bender! How's it hangin'? You go here now? Or are you just visiting the campus?"

John smirked. He couldn't believe that the cracked-voice geek he'd known in high school had turned into this hip, confident guy who said things like 'how's it hangin'.

"Yeah, I go here now. I'm in Architecture, got a scholarship 'cause my grades at SCC were so good." John couldn't help the tinge of pride that warmed his voice, and Brian discovered that he was happy for him.

They chatted for a few minutes, agreed they should hang out sometime, and Bender headed off for the design building.

Alison crept out from the bushes she had hidden behind once she recognized John's familiar walk.

"So…" she opened, "What was that?"

"Oh, John goes here now. Architecture. I guess he did really well at the community college and earned a scholarship."

Alison nodded, distracted. There was something important about John and architecture that had something to do with Claire. Brian was mumbling about how maybe they could hurry up since he was starving when Alison realized the problem here.

"Wait, Brian, did you say Architecture?" Brian nodded.

"Was John heading to Architectural Theory, by any chance?" Brian nodded again, and Alison watched understanding dawn on his face.

"Oh, shit! Claire!" they said simultaneously. The headed off to the design building at a run, both pretty sure they'd be too late to save her…them…from renewed heart-ache, but they would at least try.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I've got some pocket lint, and a few paintbrushes. I do not own any rights to the Breakfast Club, though.

* * *

Chapter 2

John settled into his seat and plopped his notebook on his desk. He'd already taken this course at Shermer, but UC wanted him to take their version of it. Well, they were paying for him to be here, so he'd do it. He'd even take notes.

With that thought, he cracked said book open and smoothed his hand over the first page, dating it neatly in the corner and noting that this was 'day 1' beneath the date.

He was a little early, but didn't mind. Being early, and sitting high up in the back of the study hall allowed him to look down at the other people arriving in class. He noticed a few that looked like his kind of people and a few that didn't. Nothing new, nothing radically exciting. Besides, he was here to work, not play. He wondered, briefly, if there was enough time before class to step out and have another cigarette. A glance at his watch told him no. He put his pen in his mouth and gnawed on the tip to ease the oral fixation.

Glancing down at the secondary entrance door, his interest suddenly perked at the sight of the next girl into the room. He couldn't make out much of her face, but her outfit was pretty much out of sight, her hair was a brilliant red but streaked with blue, and her sunglasses hid just enough to make him want to take them off for her. He watched her walk to a seat in the front row and drop into it, arranging herself. She followed almost the exact same ritual he had, even gnawing on her own pen as she waited for the professor. She didn't look around, didn't assess anyone, just stared ahead at the board. So, a bit of a nerd, but John still thought she looked as exciting as hell.

He indulged himself a minute and wondered what she looked like under that ridiculously puffy skirt. He bet that her legs were nice, and that they'd feel nice around his hips.

The professor walked in, and the lecture commenced. Today was mostly an overview, so John took notes when something sounded important, but mostly he kept his eyes on the exciting red-head in the front row.

He finally decided that it was the hair that kept drawing his eyes to her. It was so much like Claire's, except for the blue, and she would stroke it back over her scalp every now and then, just like Claire used to do.

The thought brought back his memory of the last time he had stroked Claire's hair, after they had made love for the first time. Her eyes had almost been closed, and her hot as hell lips were pulled up in that languorous smile women only got after orgasm. He had reached out his hand and run it through her hair, letting it tug just a little at her curls as he pulled her in for another deep kiss.

She'd been the most amazing sex of his life. Once her hesitation had fled, she'd turned into a wildcat. Even thinking about her skin under his lips, his hands, his tongue, was enough to get him instantly hard. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to think about something else. Today was the day to get over her. He had no right to still be thinking about her. He'd been the one to fuck things up, in the first class way that only the John Benders of the world were capable of.

The other students were getting up, and he realized he had idled all the way through the 90 minute period. He stood up and decided he was going to go down and introduce himself to the girl in the front. Maybe they'd go out for coffee, or a beer. He'd ask what kind of music she liked, and was pretty sure somewhere in there would be The Clash, or Maiden, and that'd be cool. They'd talk, hang out, and if he was extra nice, maybe he'd end the week with finding out just how good her legs did feel.

He grinned and walked down the stairs, already hot for her.

"Hey there, Red," he murmured.

Nothing could have prepared John for the shock when she turned to face him.

* * *

Claire ended up arriving with just a few minutes to spare before class. She had stopped and grabbed a coffee at the local café, and that had thrown her time off a bit.

Thankfully, when she arrived in the hall, there was still a seat available in the front row right across from the board. She pulled her notebook out of her bag and put it on her desk and cracked it open. She smoothed the first page down, and idly gnawed on the tip of her pen while she waited. Around her, she heard students greeting each other, whispering about their summers, what they'd done on vacation. She tuned them out and began tapping the rhythm to "London Calling" with her nails. She wasn't here to socialize, and she had all the friends she needed in Alison, Brian, and Andy.

When the professor walked in, she straightened up, her pen poised over the page that she had neatly dated and labeled 'Day 1'. She wrote down as much of what he said as she could. If she didn't really understand everything yet, at least she'd have an almost verbatim record of it to pore through later.

She tried, really, to focus all of her attention on what her professor was talking about. Things like "zoning laws" and "potentially disastrous design flaws" sounded pretty damn important. Unfortunately, her mind refused to let go of the dangerous area of thought that she'd been pursuing earlier today: John Bender, and why he was the best and worst person she could have ever met.

Even the thought of his name made her get hot under the collar, and she squirmed a bit in her seat, hoping no one noticed. No wonder she hadn't really gotten into another relationship since. If just thinking about something so simple as the gloves he had always worn made her practically writhe, he'd be a hard act to follow.

Claire had finally realized, some time around the second semester of her sophomore year, that she should just give up and declare celibacy. She had found herself comparing every guy that she went on a date with to John, and she'd found them wanting every time. She was really happy for Alison and Brian, they had fought the odds and come out on top, still happily in love after two years. But her being happy for them didn't stop her from being really jealous once in a while.

If only he hadn't been such a fucking jerk! Claire felt her mouth form into a hard line and shook her head to clear it, dragging her hand absently through her hair.

_Ok, Standish, Focus!_ She instructed herself. This was an important year, and statistically, one of the most difficult for the average college student. No use dredging old waters, hoping for a different result. She was simply going to die an old, celibate, horny lady who'd only ever been touched once. That was just the sad fact of her situation. She'd probably have a bunch of cats, too.

She noticed that the students around her had started getting up and filing out. Well, that hadn't been too bad, class wise. Her professor had a good voice, and a way of explaining things that she could understand. She stalled, waiting for the room to clear a little more. She hated getting caught in the inevitable bottle neck that occurred at the small doors to the lecture halls.

Claire, Claire, Claire...What are we going to do with this? She shook her head, not sure she could answer her own question. Maybe this year she'd finally be able to meet a nice guy, who wouldn't fuck her raw then be all over some other girl the next day. Maybe the moon was made of cheese, too.

She packed her bag readying to leave, when she heard a soft throat clear behind her.

"Hey there, Red," an achingly familiar voice murmured.

She felt her spine stiffen while her belly filled with unwanted heat. If she stood, her legs would shake. If she turned to face him, her heart would shatter all over again, and she wasn't sure all the glue in the world could put it back together again. She bit her lip, refusing to cry like part of her wanted. She bunched her hands into fists, refusing to throw herself at him like the other parts wanted.

Steeling her resolve, Claire Standish, richie-cum-trendy rocker turned to face John Bender, first love-cum-total asshole.

"Hey there, yourself," she heard herself saying. She was pretty proud of the fact that her voice didn't tremble. She was even a little proud at the glimpse of lust/hurt/anger/joy that crossed his face.

John's jaw had dropped just a bit, and he was staring at her. He looked like he was about to say something, and she knew she couldn't handle it.

"Well, see you around," she said lightly. Grabbing her bag, she fled the classroom, leaving John and everything he represented behind her.

* * *

By the time Alison and Brian made it to the lecture hall that Arch. Theory was taking place in, the professor was there, and class had started. They walked around the outside of the hall to an enclosed cat-walk where they could see in through the clerestory windows.

Alison looked around intently, worried more about Claire than Bender, obviously. She spotted Claire sitting, as usual, in the front row, hand scrawling intently across her note book page. Alison looked her question at Brian, and he pointed to the back row, just a few feet below them. There sat Bender in all his badass, Doc Marten wearing, trench coat sporting glory. Other than the facts that the Doc's were new, the pants were neat, and the trench fit closer to his body and highlighted his arms, Alison didn't think his look had changed much.

Unlike Claire.

Claire's look, over the past three years, had evolved from Preppy Princess to every badass boy's wet dream.

That thought gave Alison a pause, and she looked at Brian, seeing the same thought cross his mind.

"You know, really, I think they'll be fine," he said.

"Well, not fine. I seriously doubt the possibility of fine being anywhere in the near future for the Claire and Bender hour, but…I'm thinking that, whatever happens, it needs to happen on it's own," Alison responded seriously.

They nodded, both looking in, both hoping that this wouldn't turn into a disaster.

"So, you ready for lunch? I'm starving and I'm pretty sure today is International day," Alison offered.

"Mmm, tacos," Brian agreed.

Arm in arm, the headed back downstairs to the cafeteria, both pretending they weren't hoping that this whole Claire/Bender interaction might just lead to a wedding.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: *sighs* My cat owns more than I do…and even _he_ doesn't own any rights.

* * *

Chapter 3

John stared at her. Claire Standish, the hot as hell punk rocker girl was fucking CLAIRE STANDISH. He was at a loss for words, instantly hard, completely submerged in the thought of his tongue in her mouth, her tongue on his ear. Beneath that, though, was her softly whispered "I love you" as she had drifted to sleep in his arms.

And, even further buried, the decision he'd made that morning as he had climbed out of her window, hit the ground at a run.

He snapped to attention. She was leaving. She was leaving him with nothing more than a casual "see you later". He couldn't let that happen. He watched her retreating figure and desperately wanted to go after her, but his feet felt like they were rooted to the floor.

Of all the people to meet, he had never even allowed himself to hope to catch a glimpse of her again.

"Well….shit," he muttered to the empty hall.

As it turned out, once in a great while, second chances did come his way.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. He took off after her, desperate to see her again. He didn't care if all he got was a slap for his efforts. Even that brutal caress would be enough. That would be more than he deserved.

He spotted her through the plate glass doors of the main hall, running in the direction of the parking lot. He ran, harder than he'd ever run. Damn, but she was quick. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that her speed was inspired by her sheer desperation to get away from him, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to touch her, he had to try to explain.

Three years of pining away after the girl that he'd never deserved in the first place and he caught up to her as she was slamming the keys into the driver's side door of her car.

John's mind rebelled at the thought of hurting her more, but that didn't stop his hand from coming down with force on her arm, whirling her around to face him. She screamed. Of course she screamed. He was a monster, a bastard who'd taken her virginity, taken her heart, and left her out to dry. It didn't matter in that moment. Looking at her tear-stained face, her pants harsh to his ear, John Bender had a revelation.

This is home. This is what he'd been looking for, what he'd _always _been looking for.

Not letting himself think, he pushed her against her car. Then, his mouth was on hers, and his hand was in her hair, and she was sobbing into his mouth. Her hands on his chest were pushing against him with bruising force, trying to back him away, but her body was saying something completely different.

_Break me down again. Make me yours, make me forget_, it whispered to him. No challenge had ever been sweeter.

But then her hand was slapping his face and she was pulling away.

"No," she screamed, "NO" with more force this time. And he was stumbling back from her, giving her space to launch her body into the seat, slam the door. He watched her drive away, air burning in his throat as he tried to slow his speeding heart.

"Well, fuck," he said softly. "Looks like the kitty's found her claws."

He knew there were two people, somewhere on this campus, who could get him the in he needed with Claire: Brian, and Alison. Determined to not care if he missed a class today, he set off in search of them.

* * *

Brian wasn't surprised at all when John Bender came into the cafeteria, eyes wildly searching. He'd mentioned that he and Alison had been meeting for lunch here, and had secretly hoped that John would join them.

He noticed that John's right cheek had a glaringly red handprint. So, it looked like he'd spoken to Claire. Brian caught Alison's eyes and nodded his head towards Bender. Alison looked in his direction, and didn't bother to suppress her chuckle when she noticed the mark.

"And so it begins," she murmured. She stood and waved her arms to get John's attention. When she was satisfied that he'd seen her, she leaned into Brian's side.

"50 bucks that they're back together by the end of the month," she whispered.

"Damn," he whispered back. "I was gonna go for 100."

Bender arrived at their table, dropped his head into his hands, and moaned pitifully.

"So, Bender, anything interesting going on?" Alison asked innocently. John's head shot up, and he fixed her with an angry glare, to which she simply responded with her sweetest smile. His head swiveled to Brian, and that glare fixed on him. Brian tried not to gulp, and let out a nervous giggle.

"Johnson…Why the fuck did you fail to mention that I apparently have a class with the princess?"

"Uh…" Brian responded, making his MENSA level IQ completely obvious.

"Further, why the Fuck did you fail to mention that she's hotter than ever? And she's apparently started lifting weights or something, 'cause she just smacked the shit out of my face." John's glare softened, and he rested his head back on his arms.

The silence at the table was awkward, the tension palpable. Brian and Alison shared a meaningful glance. Should we? That glance asked. Their eyes flicked simultaneously to John's bowed head before meeting back up. Alison nodded, and Brian nodded back.

"So, class A fuck up…Want a chance to get her back?" Alison asked in her dry, ironic way that John found infuriating. Unable to speak past all the shit in his head, he nodded miserably, refusing to look at her.

"Well then…I may just have a way to help you out with that."

Thus, the plan was hatched.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own a Spooky squeak doll, and a guitar….Nope, no rights to Breakfast Club here!

* * *

Chapter 4

"11. Push!" Andy yelled down.

"12! Push!" he yelled again

Clang! The sound of metal being dropped onto metal echoed through the weight room.

"12? That's it?! What are you a god damn girl?"

"Yes, Andy," Claire panted. "I AM a god damn girl." And she promptly burst into tears.

"Shit, Claire, I'm sorry! Don't cry! 12 reps is really good with 80 pounds! Stop, I didn't mean it!" Andy pretty much went into panic mode when girls started crying, especially girls who were his friends.

Claire shook her head and ran her hands over her sweaty, tear stained face. "No, it's not that. I know it's good, and I know it's more than I could do a month a go. It's…." she breathed out in a huff and sat up on the end of the weight bench. She picked at her shirt, trying to say it out loud.

"John's here," she finally whispered.

Andy stared at her, jaw dropped. He almost wished he had been the one to make her cry. That would have been better than hearing the world of hurt that lingered behind her words.

"Uh…Are you sure?" he asked.

Claire gave him her best "are you shitting me?" glare.

"Yes, Andy, I'm fucking sure. He came up to me after class today…I don't think he recognized me."

Andy looked at his friend. At the moment, she was in pretty nondescript work out clothes: cut-off black sweats, running shoes, and a gray t-shirt. Normally, however, between her blue hair, piercings, and crazy clothes, he could see why anyone who hadn't known Claire wouldn't recognize her new look. He sat down on the floor next to her and patted her knee awkwardly.

"Well," he said after a minute. "That really sucks. I'm sorry Claire."

Claire nodded. Really sucks didn't even begin to address how she felt about her interaction with John Bender today. The look of shock on his face had been pretty priceless, but then he'd followed her when all she had wanted was to get away. To make it worse, he'd kissed her, and she had responded.

Claire Standish found herself suddenly wanting to die on the spot. Just lay down and….stop breathing. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be working out like she wanted that day.

Now, she had an idea how Andy and Alison had felt after their break-up. They had tried to make it work but in the end, their personalities got in the way. Alison had discovered that she really wasn't ready to be a one guy one girl type, and Andy had discovered that he wasn't a one "girl" type. Of course, after the world had ended when John Bender and Claire Standish had been seen talking, let alone sucking face in the hall, Andy's realization that he genuinely liked guys had been almost no big deal.

"So," Andy piped up. "Do you have any other classes today?"

Claire shook her head. After she had gotten home, and discovered that she could still breathe, she had headed to the secondary campus for her Fabrics class. Friday was her light day.

"You still thinking about going to Megan's party tonight?"

"I don't know," Claire whispered. "It's been…a hard day."

"Well," Andy reasoned, "That's all the more reason to go, isn't it? Hard days can always be cured by hard drinking. Right?"

Claire couldn't help but giggle. Andy was a light-weight, a Two Beer Tommy, so the thought of him drinking hard was hilarious.

"I don't know… Maybe. I'm going to see what Ali and Brian are up to." If they weren't going, Claire certainly wasn't about to.

"Well, last I talked to them, they'd be there. Want to all just go together? Bronco's got plenty of room," Andy offered. He pretty much knew that, to be on the safe side, he should be the designated driver.

Claire thought it over. On the one hand, she wasn't really in the mood for bad music, cheap beer, and the idiot parade that she seemed to attract at parties. On the other…she _really_ wasn't in the mood to stay home, listen to the Cure, and cry herself to sleep. Decision made, she nodded.

"Alright, that sounds good," she smiled at Andy.

"Alright," he smiled back. "Now, get to those Up-Downs!"

Claire groaned.

* * *

John paced his living room floor nervously. This was a bad idea. This was a really fucking _bad_ idea. He sniffed and pulled a cigarette out of his pack on the table and lit it. He crossed to the window as he took a deep drag.

It had been one thing to sit and talk to Alison and Brian today about going to a party, "accidentally" bumping into Claire, and finally getting a chance to explain himself. It was entirely another to be staring at the clock, waiting for Brian to show up, and actually be on the way to that party.

"Shit," he murmured to the cactus on his windowsill. The cactus was unimpressed by his profanity.

He stamped out his cigarette and lit another, glancing at the clock. It was 7:30, and Brian would be here soon. John was tempted to fake sick, tell Brian he had too much homework. Hell, may he just wouldn't answer the door.

_Knock_, _knock_.

Speak of the devil…

John opened the door, and Brian stood there wearing a very much not trademark smirk, and a _completely_ not trademark jacket.

John waved him in and shut the door behind him.

"Nice threads," he said in opening. The leather jacket was fitted and decorated here and there with bright silver chains that matched the one on his black jeans.

"Thanks. Alison and Claire made it for me for my birthday," Brian grinned.

John found himself momentarily dumb-founded. The Claire Standish he'd known (_fucked over_) in high school would have vomited before she ever even touched this kind of jacket, let alone helped make it.

"Well," Brian's grin widened. "They didn't make it, per se, but yeah, they modified it. Claire found it in a thrift shop, and found the chains in a hardware store." Brian had worn it on purpose, hoping to see the idiot look that currently graced Bender's face. He certainly hadn't been off.

John, meanwhile, was pretty sure he'd been having an out of body, since he'd just heard the words Claire, thrift shop, and hardware all in the same sentence.

"So, you ready? Andy's picking up Claire. They might already be there, I'm not sure," Brian mumbled this last part a bit.

"So, those two are still good, then?" Somehow, thinking Alison and Andy were still together made him feel more like shit.

"Who? Alison and Andy?" Brian knew damn well who he'd meant, but this was kind of fun.

"Yes, dweeb, Alison and Andy." John let murder slip into his face, but new and improved Brian just laughed it off.

"Actually, they broke up a couple months into freshman year. Alison wasn't ready and Andy," Brian paused, not wanting to out his friend. "Andy wasn't either," he finished lamely.

"But Alison and I got together, and we've been going out since, so I can't really say it's upsetting."

Huh. So not only was he the only one who couldn't hack a relationship, he'd apparently missed a lot as well.

"So now…what? Andy and Claire then?" John couldn't stop the words coming out of his mouth.

"Yes, John, Claire's actually completely happy, and in love with one of my best friends. That's why I'm trying to help you out here, 'cause it's been too long since I've had the chance to really see someone get fucked over and get their heart broken." Brian's words came out with a little more venom than he'd intended, but he watched them hit home and couldn't find any regret.

"Shit, man. I guess I deserved that. I just had to ask, ya know?" John hung his head and closed his eyes. Finally, he shook his head to clear it.

"So, we goin' or what? I'd like to see big Bri cut loose." When he picked his head up, the smirk was back in place, and there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. Brian smiled and lead the way out to his car.

This would either be great…or it would be the single worst idea he and Alison had ever had. Only one way to find out…


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: At this point, it's obvious I don't own any rights to anything…with the exception of the plot (and the occasional OC!)

Boo.

A/N: Yup, fully aware that suckitude isn't a word….but I'm making it one! As always, if you read, I love reviews!

Chapter 5

Claire relaxed into the seat of Andy's new Bronco. After she had finished her brutal workout with him, she had headed back to her apartment to shower and change. To gear up for acting human after running into John, she'd listened to some Black Sabbath, an activity that was surprisingly soothing for her.

Now, she was adorned in a tight black tank top and red skinny jeans with white stitching going up the backs of the legs. She'd tumbled her hair up into a messy pile of pins, and it curled around her head like a bent halo. Pretty appropriate considering her response to Bender's mouth today.

"So, Alison already left with Brian. Anyone else we're picking up? Claire asked into the silence.

"Well…" Andy hesitated. "I was actually thinking about swinging by and picking up Cliff…"

Claire made a noise in her throat as she tried to suppress her shocked laugh.

"Cliff?! As in Cliff HUTCHINS?" she snorted, unable to contain it.

Andy blushed a deep shade of red and growled at his friend.

"Yeah, Claire, real nice. I never said anything about your taste in guys, despite its obvious suckitude," he murmured.

Claire quieted. It was still funny, but she felt like his last comment was a bit low. "It's not that, Andy. Cliff's a great guy, looks real nice in those denims but…I just never thought he…you know. Swung your way," she offered by way of explanation.

Andy nodded, mollified. The second he had made the taste comment, he'd regretted it, and he was grateful that Claire didn't seem to be holding it against him.

"Well, you also never knew I swung my way, so I'd have to say your radar is pretty much broken," Andy grinned.

"Oh, please! If mine's broken, yours has been run over, dropped off a cliff, and sat on by an elephant! YOU didn't know you swung your way until Alison," she chirped back, sticking her tongue out for emphasis.

Instantly, any tension, any unspoken pain brought on by Andy's stupid remark was gone. They giggled all the way to Cliff's house, and Claire did her very best not to make any leading comments. She couldn't help herself entirely, though.

"So, Cliff," she started after polite small talk. "You like rugby at all?"

Andy glared at her, knowing where this was going.

"Um, sure, I guess. I've never been much into sports. High school isn't exactly easy when you're a male in the theater club, you know?"

"So you didn't play much when you were younger?" Claire continued, nudging the conversation in her chosen direction.

"No, not really. I knew my dad was always disappointed, since I have the build for it," Cliff replied, obviously a little uncomfortable.

"Well, Andy here plays rugby," she offered.

"Really?" Cliff's voice suddenly sounded remarkably more interested in the sport.

"Yup. You should see him on the field. He's like an Adonis. And those tight little shorts they wear," she wolf whistled. "Totally yummy," she smirked mischievously.

Both boys had a distinct blush on their faces, and Claire patted herself on the back for a job well done. Now, Cliff was thinking about Andy in his shorts, and Andy was thinking about Cliff thinking about him. And all was right with the world.

Well, almost all. She had still seen the love of her life today. And now she was going to have to see him…all the time. Claire knew, simply knew, that every interaction was going to rehash something. Every time she saw him, she'd remember his touch. Every time she heard him breathe, she'd remember that same breath coming hot and fast by her ear.

So, basically, she was completely screwed as far as attention span went.

Case in point, they had pulled into Megan's complex, Andy had been saying something, and Cliff was getting out of the car, with Claire just clueing in. Not good.

She hopped out and shut the door behind her. She rolled her neck and pulled her cigarettes out of her bag, lighting one as she touched it to her lips. She waved at Andy, indicating she'd meet him inside and gesturing to her cigarette.

Claire hauled herself up on the hood of Andy's truck, staring up at the apartment building. She wasn't sure why, but she felt pretty tense considering that she was going into a party. She thought she had burned off most of her frustrations in her earlier workout, but they were all back, so apparently not.

She took a few more drags of her cigarette, trying not to think. That never worked, of course, and her mind was drawn inexorably back to that night with John. That night…and the night after. Claire decided at that moment that there should be a law against best and worst nights happening within 24 hours of each other. She wondered who she could call to see about getting that on the books.

Flicking her cigarette into the distance in a practiced way, she headed inside.

"Tonight, Claire Standish is going to forget about John Bender, and have fun," she declared to herself.

Too bad things really _never did_ work out for her anymore.

* * *

John slid into the back seat of the old Volvo more nervous than he'd ever been. Alison grunted a noise at him that passed as a greeting from the passenger's seat and turned back around.

He tapped his fingers on his leg and tried to think of what he'd say to Claire when he saw her.

"Hey, Princess, I like the new look" seemed too casual.

"I'm sorry I'm such an asshole, but you're hotter than ever. Wanna sleep with me?" Nope, that'd just get him slapped again.

Unfortunately, it looked like he would just have to tell her the truth. The truth, which he hadn't even been able to acknowledge to himself. The reason he'd really pulled that shit at the party was…he'd been scared. Claire had just given him a bigger, more important gift than anyone ever had, and the thought that one person could love him so much…That he could love one person so much… That thought had frightened him more than anything that his father, Vernon, or any of his other personal boogey men could have. So he'd done what he always had, and he'd run away. In the long run, he figured she'd be better off without him.

That made him realize that she probably was. She was in school, seemed to be feeling alright, and she had obviously figured out something about her own personality, a thing she had struggled with in high school. Maybe he was just, once again, being a completely selfish asshole by trying to talk to her again. In fact, he almost definitely was, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. He just, at least, had to explain that his actions had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him.

"Alright, dick shit, listen up!" Alison snapped. Her words broke his reverie, and he faced her, noting that he'd never seen her eyes quite so wild.

"I've been thinking. This seemed like a good idea earlier, but I just want to get a few things straight. So, I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. And if you ignore one single word I say, so help me God, I will hunt you down and gut you like a fish. Got it, Bender?" she snarled.

John nodded, struck dumb. What the hell had happened to the quiet Alison, and when had she been replaced by the War Machine?

"Good. Now. I think it's an alright thing, what you're trying to do, explaining and all that. But, I want to make it very clear. If you hurt Claire, in any way, if she so much gets the littlest sniffle because of you, you are in a world of hurt. I watched that girl break down and fucking die all through freshman year, we all did. We picked up pieces of her, and glued her back together. Now, she's almost doing alright. The only reason I'm doing this is her. She barely dates, and she's never dated anyone more than once. You're all she sees, all she thinks about. I'm hoping that maybe, if you can get this shit sorted with her, she could move on. But I am not, I repeat, NOT going to let you hurt her again," Alison's eyes were blazing, and her breath was coming out through her nose in bull-like pants. John was pretty sure that, if he said anything and she wasn't finished, she'd set him on fire with her words alone. He did the smart thing, and stayed silent.

"It looks like you're coming around, and that's good. And if she even wants to talk, you are going to be a man and take every word she has, even if it's just to say she hates you. You owe her that at least. And if I find out otherwise, I'll sic Andy on you, and you won't like it. He's a trainer now, bigger than ever, and he will snap your neck like a twig. Capiche?"

John did his second very smart thing of the night, and nodded. "Definitely. Understood, captain," he gave a mock salute.

Suddenly, Alison's face melted into a smile, and she was off telling him about the design company she and Claire were trying to build.

That's how they stayed for the rest of the ride, talking about what had been going on in their lives since high school, with Brian's sardonic interjections causing fits of giggles.

As they pulled up outside of an apartment building downtown and got out, Alison suddenly reached up and touched his shoulder. John looked down at her, in the process of lighting his cigarette.

"You know John? I'm really glad you want to do the right thing, 'cause you would have left a damn pitiful corpse." With that, she took his cigarette from his lips, and headed inside to the party.

Brian smirked at him and followed after her. John shook his head, snorted, and put another cigarette to his lips.

Things could have been worse, he thought as he let a jet of smoke out his nose.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything.

A/N: Heap big thanks to the lovelies who have left reviews! You guys literally made my day.

Also! Massive case of potty mouth abounds in this chapter. You were warned.

Chapter 6

Claire headed inside, hesitant. The last time she had gone to one of Megan's parties, she had ended up holding some strange girl's hair as she vomited over the balcony. Not exactly a fond memory. Still, eventually she'd have Alison and Brian here. Andy was already seated on the couch with Cliff, and they appeared deep in conversation. She made a mental note to try to get to know him. If Cliff was going to be around more, Claire wanted to be sure that Andy's heart was safe in his hands.

She dropped a five dollar bill in a jar by the door clearly labeled "Don't be Cheap! Help with the Booze!" She grinned a little bit. Things like that were one of the reasons she liked Megan.

She caught eyes with Andy. His eyes clearly asked if she was okay, and she nodded, gesturing to the kitchen. He flashed her the thumbs up, and she headed off to grab a drink.

Claire surveyed the counter, looking for something she liked. She eventually settled on vodka and cranberry juice. After she fixed her drink, she wandered to the doorway, sipping idly from her glass and scanning the crowd, anxious for the rest of her friends to get here. Sure, she knew everyone, and when Megan stopped by, they touched faces with an emphatic "MWAH", but right now, she really needed to talk to Alison, whom she hadn't seen for more than a few minutes all day. Andy was a great guy and all, but there were certain things that only another girl could understand, like still being hung up on a guy after years of not seeing him.

Finally, she decided to head out for fresh air. She passed through the living room, and out onto the balcony. Claire leaned on the railing and looked over the city, sighing wistfully.

If she let herself be completely honest, she would admit that the reason for that sigh had long brown hair, kissable lips, and a whole truck load of baggage. But, she wasn't being honest, so as far as she was concerned, she sighed from boredom. She lit another cigarette and rested her head on her hand, taking a gulp from her drink.

When she heard the sliding door open behind her, she didn't turn right away, but she could feel the hairs rising on the back of her neck. Only one person could do that without even meeting her eyes.

_Well, fuck me_, she thought. _Looks like the night really could have_ _gotten worse._

* * *

John followed Alison and Brian into the loud apartment. He smirked at the "booze" jar, and dropped a five dollar bill in. Looking around, his earlier fit of nerves intensified. This had been his type of scene, other people drunk and high, music blaring, for the longest time in high school; but over the past few years he'd calmed down. Now, he'd much rather have been home, curled up with a book and a beer, and maybe a certain red-head beside him on the couch.

Scratch that, definitely a certain red-head beside him on the couch. He didn't deserve it, and probably wouldn't have it ever again, but he was only acknowledging this in his head, so it was acceptable.

When his eyes scanned the living room and caught with Andy's, John knew that, if looks could kill, he would have already hit the floor by now. Alison and Brian were already by his side, Alison with a hand on his chest. John watched him nod once, gruffly, and he didn't get up, but John knew that there were dangerous waters here as far as Andy was concerned.

Looked like there wouldn't be any pick-up pool with Sporto any time soon.

He scanned the room again, looking for Claire, but she was nowhere to be found. He wandered into the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer. Turning to the doorway, he stood and looked again. Then, his eyes caught on a familiar shape, a familiar shock of hair.

Claire was outside on the balcony, head on her hand, smoking a cigarette. He shook his head, and looked again. Yeah, he'd been right the first time. She was smoking. She'd always made the most disgusted faces when he used to smoke around her, and he guiltily wondered if he had been the reason for her picking up the habit.

Steeling himself, he took a big gulp from his beer and headed towards the balcony. She was alone, and he could just see a little sliver of her face in the light from inside. _So god-damn pretty_, he thought. _So god-damn lonely_.

He felt his mouth dry up and took another swig of his beer. He watched his hand push the sliding door open like it was someone else. As he shut it behind him, he knew, just knew, that he wasn't fixing this tonight. His one glimpse of her eyes earlier today had warned him of that much. No one person could hold that much pain in their eyes and have it healed immediately. He should know.

He watched her back stiffen. Her hand traveled to the back of her neck, and she rubbed it there, as if fighting off a chill. He listened to Claire's sigh and it was so quiet that, had he not been prepared to take her littlest sound, he wouldn't have been able to hear it.

Suddenly, she turned, and fixed him with a dark stare.

"You lost?" she snarled. John winced as his own words, from a different time, were thrown back in his face.

_ Okay, man. She's pissed, and you knew she would be. Take it, and don't get riled up._

"Actually, princess, I'm exactly where I should be. It's a party, Friday night, and I just managed to find myself alone with the hottest chick on the planet," he grinned, tried to make it a joke, failed miserably. John had a moment to wonder where all his cool had gone before he realized she had burned it all away with that one hot flash of her eyes on his.

"Yeah, well, you got plenty of 'time alone' with this 'hot chick' a while a go, and if you don't remember, you didn't seem to care too much about it. So why don't you just fuck off and find some other girl's heart to break?" Claire hissed in his face.

She shouldered him aside and walked back in, making a bee-line for the bathroom. He couldn't hear it, but he knew she slammed the door by the way it quivered.

Choices, choices. He could stay out here, and leave her alone like she'd asked for. Or, he could be a complete douche, and follow her, and really force the issue. Well, he was John Bender after all.

Growling under his breath, he quickly crossed to the bathroom door, not surprised that she'd forgotten to lock it.

Claire was in the corner, slumped over her knees, crying like her heart was breaking. And who knows? Maybe it was, and if that was true, John knew if it was his fault. He knew that, if he had a shred of decency, he would walk right back out and pretend he hadn't seen her openly showing how much damage he had done to her. So, he did something completely in character. He shut the door, and sat down, leaning his head back against it.

John stared at Claire, watched her shoulders shake as she tried so hard to keep the noise of her breakdown quiet. That, _that_ was something old Claire would have done, never wanting to draw attention to the fact that she was different from the "in-girls", that she actually had feelings. He watched her shoulders shake, and saw that a few blue-tinted locks had slipped from their clips and were hanging in front of her face, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her over to him and make the hurt go away. But, because he, John, was the reason the hurt was there, he knew he had no right to be so selfish.

So, he sat there, and waited for words to come, and tried to pretend it wasn't killing him to not touch her, not kiss her.

"Jesus fuck John, why can't you just leave me alone?" Claire murmured miserably. He watched as she picked up her head, wiping her face with her hands. Her mascara had run in bright blue streaks down her cheeks, and her eyes looked swollen and red. She was still the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen.

"Well, you see Cherry, I've got this problem, and I think you can help me with it," he informed her. _Don't fuck this up, do not fuck this up Bender._

She snorted, and laughed once, a harsh noise somewhere between a cough and a sigh of disbelief. "Oh, really?" she threw at him, those two words dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, really. See, there's this girl, let's call her Princess for now. Yeah, Princess, that's good. See, I'm trying to figure out a way to fix things with Princess, and she's not having any of it, and I was wondering if you had any suggestions." John was really having a hard time keeping this light. He mostly just wanted to kneel down in front of her and beg, literally _beg_, for her forgiveness.

Claire stared at him, incredulous.

"Well, that depends on what you did to fuck things up in the first place," she informed him, standing up. John followed suit, and stood. He couldn't help but compare this particular bathroom interlude to one a long time a go. Except in that time, Claire had been the one pressed against the door, and neither one of them had had much breath left for words other than quick pants, and things that sounded remotely like "oh, yes" and "don't stop". John couldn't help but wish there were more similarities between this time and that one.

"Well," he started, but she cut him off, striking like a viper.

"See, if you just called her a mean name, maybe told her you didn't like her hair or something, I'd say man up and say you were sorry. But if you, say, made her feel like a whore, made her feel like she was absolutely worthless, and maybe left her wondering why she ever even bothered giving a flying fuck about living, that'd be a different case. Maybe," and she was in his face now, "Maybe, even worse, you took something that the Princess thought was really pretty fucking important and turned it into a god-damn joke. Maybe you stomped on her heart, completely crushed it beneath your stupid, white trash work boots. Does that sound about right?" Claire snapped. But she didn't give him time to respond.

"Well, maybe, if that's the case, you should just fuck off, and leave the Princess the fuck alone, because maybe you hurt her more than anyone has ever been hurt in the history of the fucking planet, and she's just fucking sick of dealing with your fucking _bullshit_!" Now she was crying again, but the smoldering rage in her eyes begged him, _dared_ him to have something to say about it. He didn't. John Bender, for the first time in his life, found himself completely speechless. No smart ass remark, snide comment, not even something as ridiculous as "um", was able to pass his lips.

This is stupid, he thought. But, knowing it was stupid didn't stop his hand from reaching up, touching her hair and her chin, just lightly, just for a second.

Claire smacked his hand away and reached for the door knob.

"Claire, wait!" Ah, good, so he did still have words and a functioning mouth.

"No," she screamed again, reminding him of earlier in the day. "No, Bender, you don't get to touch me, you don't get to look at me, and you sure as shit don't get to tell me to wait. Now get the fuck out of my way," she snarled in his face.

God, she was close enough to kiss, and that was the only thing he wanted. Someone could have offered him millions of dollars, a new Caddy, and new house brimming with hot women, and he would have turned it all down in favor of even the briefest touch of his lips to hers. But, this was dangerous ground, and Claire's eyes were promising murder. So, he did the bravest thing he had ever done, and stepped aside.

John let her open that door, and slam it shut behind her. He let her walk away, and could only find himself hoping desperately that this wasn't really it.

John knew that, if this _was_ it, if this was really the end, then he was done for, finished. This girl, this little former preppy princess girl who had surprised him, given him a chance when no one else had, she was it, end of the line, no turning back. She was everything he'd ever wanted, and more than he could have ever hoped for. And he was letting her walk away from him.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid prick," he muttered to himself, accenting each word with a bang of his head against the door.

He let it sink in that this probably was it, this had been all she'd had to say, and now he owed it to her to do as she asked, walk away, and never even look at her again.

"Nope," he resolved. "Can't really have that, Cherry. Sorry." And then he was up, and out the door, and hoping like hell that she wasn't already too far gone from him.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Thomas would like to inform you that his human doesn't own crap. Thank you.

Chapter 7

Claire pushed her way through the crowd, trying to pretend for dignity's sake that she wasn't crying over a stupid high-school crush. She stumbled past Allison, who sat on the couch with Brian and Andy, and out the door.

John followed a half-minute later, obviously trying to catch up to her. Allison jumped up and stood in his way, while Andy said a quick "I'll be back" to Cliff and headed in the direction of the door.

John tried to circumvent Allison, but she wouldn't move. "I told you," she hissed up at him. "What the hell did you say to her, Bender?" And with a thump of fists against his chest, she was off.

John just stared after them, giving in to the inevitable. Brian walked up and joined him.

"So," he said in a conversational way, "Look's like you not only screwed yourself, but you screwed me too." John flicked his eyes to Brian's then away to the floor.

"You want to get out of here?" Brian asked, sounding genuinely concerned. John could only nod, and motion to the door, hoping Brian would understand that he'd be waiting in the parking lot.

Brian walked up to Cliff, who he assumed was Andy's date for the night. "You need a ride home?" he asked. Cliff just shook his head. "Nah, Andy said he'd be back. And if he can't make it…I'll find a ride, plus it's not too long of a walk home if it comes to that," Cliff responded. Brian nodded and headed for the door.

"Um, Brian?" Cliff called questioningly.

"Yeah?" Brian turned to face him again.

"Um… Should I…Do I need to be worried, here? I mean does Andy have a…thing? With Claire?" Cliff's voice was recognizably nervous. Brian just laughed and shook his head. "No, man. We're all just… We're kind of like a big, weird family, y'know? Andy thinks of Claire like a sister…But trust me when I say his feelings are far from brotherly concerning you," he smirked.

Cliff blushed, relieved. "Alright…Thanks, Brian. I hope… I hope she feels better," he murmured.

Brian nodded, and walked out the door, wondering how it was that things had gone from fine to hellacious in a matter of thirty minutes.

* * *

John didn't even wait to get out of the apartment building before he had a cigarette lit. He exhaled in quick, angry puffs. "Fucking idiot," he exclaimed to no one in particular.

"Sorry, man. Can't exactly say I disagree," piped Brian, coming out behind him. Still, he patted him on the back in a guy-consoling-guy way.

"Come on, smoke in the car, Claire and Allison do it all the time. Hell, I'm considering picking it up if this is how our nights are going to start being." This last was said with a noticeable grimace.

John didn't comment. He knew he should feel bad for Brian, since he'd obviously lost time with Allison, but he couldn't. At least Brian had had the last two years with her, where as John had had…well, not a whole hell of a lot in the way of commitment.

"So, where are we going?" Brian asked as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

"I don't really care at the moment. I've got some beer in the fridge, and a dart board if you want to come back to my place," John offered.

Brian nodded, and John gave him the address. Hearing it, Brian couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" John asked.

Brian shook his head. "It's just funny. You live right across the street from the girls. Guess you guys better get used to seeing each other."

John turned in his seat and stared at Brian before yelping out "Shit!" and ditching his cigarette out the window. He'd let it burn down to his fingers without even noticing.

"Are you serious?" he asked as Brian pulled into the lot by his apartment building.

"Yup," Brian responded. They climbed out of the car, and Brian pointed at a window six floors up. "See that window, the one with the weird skull and rainbow curtains?" John nodded.

"That's Claire's bedroom. Which… She'd probably kill me if she knew I had said anything… So if it ever comes up… Yeah, let's not let it come up, okay?" John nodded again, opening the main entry door. As it shut behind them, he couldn't help but try to get a last glimpse, hoping to see her silhouette. Nothing. He walked ahead of Brian, slightly disappointed, until he realized that his living room faced that window. A momentary stalktastic glee filled him, before he realized that he wasn't about to stoop to that. Yet…

John unlocked his door and threw the keys in a small bowl he kept on a table. Kicking off his boots, he motioned absently. "Make yourself at home."

Brian shucked his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, noting that it blended right in with the denim and trench coats. Looking around, he noticed that the apartment, while tiny, was neat. There was an over-flowing bookshelf against the wall opposite him, along with a desk that had two framed pictures. Curious, Brian crossed the floor and looked at them.

One he recognized, since he had the same image. They all did. They had gone to Adventure Land, the local theme park, days after graduating. Claire and Alison had suggested that they get a "theme" group portrait done. Brian chuckled at the memory. The girls had wanted to go with a Victorian theme, while the guys wanted the Roaring 20's. The guys had won, a 3-2 vote.

Brian smiled at their younger, happier selves. The men had ended up in zoot suits, the women in flapper dresses. Claire was pressed up against John, pressing her lips to his face, Allison doing the same to Andy. Brian himself was in the middle, seated on a chair, Scarface style.

The other picture, Brian had never seen before. It was Claire, sitting by herself on the low-hanging branch of a tree. She was smiling down at the camera, a slight blush on her face, red hair hanging wild around her eyes. You could almost feel the love in those eyes and, for a moment, Brian wished he hadn't seen it. Seeing the picture, knowing John kept it, brought it home how badly two of his friends were hurting.

John padded back into the room, bare feet quiet on the floor, and noticed what Brian was looking at. He chuckled quietly, handing Brian a beer and drinking from his own.

"Yeah, what can I say? I'm a sentimental bastard. Besides, we all looked damn good in those get-ups, if I do say so myself." They shared a smile, both knowing that the sad look on Brian's face mirrored John's, and that the looks weren't inspired by the group shot.

Ten beers later…

Brian hiccupped loudly and laid his head back against the couch. They were watching Enter the Dragon, and reliving old times.

"Ya know what I never….What we never…understood *hiccup* man?" he slurred. John shook his head slowly, though he had a guess.

"Why? Why did you pull that *hiccup* shit? I mean… Man, Claire was…No, no…Claire IS like *hiccup* one of the best girls like….ever! And you!" Brian poked John for emphasis, "You HAD her. I mean she was so fucking *hiccup* so in love with you that…Shit, I mean she still is. So *hiccup* basically *hiccup* what the fuck?!"

John had known it was coming. He had known one of them, eventually, would ask, and found himself glad it was Brian. He took a cigarette from his pack on the table and lit it, taking a few drags to form words. Surprisingly, Brian took one too, as if he was preparing for the worst.

"Claire was…pretty much the best thing to ever happen to me, ya know? I mean, she didn't care about what everyone else said about me, she didn't care about where I came from…Hell, she didn't even care when the shit started falling on her for being with me. All she ever wanted to do was love me. That's it. One time she even said that it was ok if I couldn't love her back, that she got it…She said she hoped I would one day, but she wasn't going to rush me," John grimaced at the memory. "I mean, what kind of person says shit like that?" He shook his head, stamping out his cigarette before lighting another.

"It was all getting…Intense. I mean like 'if I don't see this girl every possible minute of my day I'm going to go insane' type of intense. I started picturing her when we were older. I pictured her in a wedding gown. I even imagined what our kids would look like. I think that was what really hit it home," John grunted, feeling like an idiot for saying that out loud. But, he realized that, being able to talk about it was cathartic, and maybe if he could say this to Brian, then one day, he could say it to Claire too.

"I mean, seriously, who the hell was I to be thinking about marrying her? No one, a fucking construction worker, heading off to a community college, hoping for a second chance at…life. And who was she? She was this Princess, came from big money, had big dreams. I couldn't keep her shackled to me, man. I had to let her go…I had to." John stared up at the ceiling fan, widening his eyes to keep the tears from coming.

Brian was silent, absorbing all of this.

"So," he said finally. "You loved her, wanted to marry her, and wanted to be the father of her kids?"

John nodded.

"But you weren't anywhere near good enough for her, right?"

John nodded again, scowling this time.

"John…Did you realize all of this before or after you had sex with her?"

John's scowl deepened. John Bender a few years a go would have grabbed Brian by the neck and slammed his head into a wall. Mature, brooding John Bender just accepted the venomous question as his due. Brian, who'd stood by Claire through everything John had put her through, had every single right to ask that question. He still found himself not wanting to answer honestly.

"Yeah," he finally whispered. "Yeah, I knew that before…"

There. It was out. The thought that had lain heavy on him since he'd left her, since he'd seen her the next night, had finally been spoken out loud to another person, and he couldn't take it back or try to deny it.

Brian stared at him, jaw dropped. His eyes were shining from the alcohol, and maybe from the anger too.

"You know John….You…are such a..fug..in…" And Brian's head hit the pillows. John stared at him, concerned. He shook his arm, and Brian flopped over, snoring lightly.

"Prick, Brian," he mumbled to his sleeping friend. "The words you were trying to find were fucking prick. And damn do I know it."

He stood and crossed to the window. He tried to stop them, but his eyes dragged inevitably to the window that he now knew was hers. The light was on, and the window was opened. He look again, and realized that Claire was sitting in her window seat, leg hanging casually over the sill, smoke billowing out around her. He couldn't make out much of her face, but he found himself hoping that she was smiling over…something, anything…as she spoke to someone outside his view.

He lit his own cigarette as he turned away, refusing to do that to her; refusing to dishonor her more than he already had. Scraping a hand through his hair, he dropped a blanket on Brian and threw the locks on the door before heading off to his cold, lonely bed.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own no rights, and make no profit.

A/N: As always, coarse language warning.

Chapter 8

Claire staggered through the weekend in a haze. At work, she found "That looks great on you" and "Oh, try that jacket in the green, it'll go well with your eyes" dropping from her lips with no actual thought connected to them. Any time she saw a man with shoulder length brown hair, she froze. Of course, it was never him, and every time, she would tell herself that she was relieved.

She went about her usual routine, doing the shopping, since it was Allison's turn to do the dishes. As she put the groceries away, she found herself wondering what John kept his cabinets stocked with now. As she was folding her laundry Sunday night, she found herself staring at a Doors shirt in her hand. It was her favorite shirt, and she realized that it had been his. Damn.

Monday dawned clear and brutal. Today would be Architectural Theory, and John, followed by Fabrics, Life Drawing and an hour or so to get to the gym before her work shift.

Claire considered her clothes carefully, selecting and rejecting seven different outfits before finally settling on a Blue Oyster Cult t-shirt and faded jeans. She slipped her feet into her worn red Ked's and headed out into the living room.

The coffee table was still littered with a few beer cans from Saturday night.

After they had gotten home from the party, and Andy had headed back to get Cliff, Allison and Claire had decided that the best way to deal with the situation was to drink. Boy did they.

One in the morning had found Claire and Allison in her bedroom, Judas Priest blaring from her speakers. Claire had perched herself on the window seat, dangling her leg out so she could smoke by the open window. She had looked at the apartment across the street at some point, feeling the odd sensation of being watched. Shrugging when nothing seemed amiss, she looked back at Allison.

"Allison?" she had asked. Allison grunted in a questioning way, looking up from her sketch book.

"Do you…" Claire stumbled over her words, wondering if she should have stopped at 3, but continued. "Do you think he ever…loved me? Or was I just convenient at the moment?"

Allison had kept her head down, used to the familiar question. Drunk Claire was maudlin Claire, at least sometimes. After her interaction with Bender, Allison was just concentrating on being happy that drunk Claire wasn't violent, mad at the world Claire, which she'd seen, and knew it wasn't a pretty sight. She sighed, blowing a lock of black hair out of her face.

"I think…I think he definitely loved you. Maybe he still does, I can't be sure, since the day I understand how the mind of John Bender works is the day I ask you to put a bullet in my head and set me on fire in a ditch somewhere."

Claire had giggled at that, but Allison hadn't been finished.

"But I'm curious, Claire. What happened tonight? You didn't say much in the car."

Claire sighed, looking over at her friend. This response required a fresh cigarette and a minute to think. She leaned her head against the wall, and tried to explain her conversation with John in a way that she wouldn't sound like a complete psychotic.

"He said….he said he had a problem, with this Princess girl, and asked if I had any suggestions on how to fix it."

Allison nodded, but felt her heart skip a beat. So, John _had_ tried to talk to Claire. Failed miserably, of course, but at least he had put in the effort. She waved her hand indicating that Claire should continue.

"When he said that I just….snapped, I guess. I told him that if he'd hurt her badly enough he should fuck off and leave her alone and…you saw the rest," Claire finished in a murmur.

Allison nodded sagely, and sucked at her teeth. That was pretty much what she expected. Taking a deep breath, steeling herself, she let out the words she hadn't expected would ever leave her mouth.

"Maybe you should give him another chance, Claire."

Claire snorted, and stared at her, incredulous.

"No really," she continued. "I think he regrets what happened. At least consider giving him a chance to explain. If anything, maybe it would at least make you feel better, knowing his reasoning."

Claire bit back her comment in regards to what she thought of his reasoning. They had lapsed into silence, Allison drawing, Claire smoking, both lost in their thoughts of what had been, and what could be.

Claire snapped out of her memories and looked at the coffee table. She'd have to clean that up when she got home. She pulled a hair tie from her pocket and pulled her hair back into a messy top-knot. Today, she was going to go to her classes, go to the gym, go to work, and try not to think. A tall order, but as she locked the door behind herself, she could feel the smile on her face. Claire Standish was refusing to let the day suck.

* * *

Across the street, John was having an eerily similar morning. He'd woken before his alarm on Saturday and dressed for work in silence. Saturday was concrete day. John hated concrete day. Out in his living room, Brian had still been asleep. John had dropped two Alka-Seltzer tablets in a glass and poured a sports drink over them before waking Brian. As John handed him the mix, Brian looked at it suspiciously before drinking. "Sorry man, I didn't mean to fall asleep. That was completely irresponsible of me," Brian chocked out nervously.

John had waved it off, having preferred Brian sleeping on his couch over his driving into a pole. Brian had left shortly after, and that day and the next blurred by.

All day Saturday, as John poured and scraped out concrete with the rest of the crew, his mind was on Claire. Now that he'd seen her, the memories were stronger. He could close his eyes and see her smiling at him, showing off a new hat she'd just bought, quoting Romeo and Juliet as they sat together watching it late at night. Only now, there were new memories to plague him: Claire in class before he'd realized it was her, Claire pressed against him by her car, her hand slapping him away with a force he'd never felt from her, crying.

John groaned as he worked, and didn't notice how much time passed until the quitting whistle sounded.

Sunday was no more exciting. It was his day off, which meant it was his day to get things done. He cleaned his apartment, ran laundry, and did his grocery shopping. As he put his groceries away, he wondered if Claire would laugh to see what he had: protein powder, granola cereals, gummy fruit snacks. Yeah, she'd probably laugh, but that would mean that she was here to see it, and that would be a good thing.

Monday started with the metallic clang of his alarm shattering yet another dream of Claire. This one had been sweet, nothing sexual. They had been walking in a meadow, hand in hand, and Claire had a purple parasol over her shoulder, protecting her fair skin from the sun. They had sat together for hours, and just as she'd turned to him, smiling invitingly, his alarm had rung, and the meadow shattered.

He dressed in the first clean clothes he put his hand on, black work pants, work boots, and a clean white t-shirt. He ate breakfast hurriedly, leaving his bowl in the sink. He'd have just enough time to stop for a coffee before class.

When he arrived in the hall, John looked at the seat he would usually take, high up in the back. Claire was already seated, and he found himself wanting to be closer to her. There was a seat directly behind her open. He paused, indecisive. He hated the front, not because he fell asleep, a habit he'd kicked in his first year of college, but because professors tended to call on people in the front, and his mind had a wandering problem. He shrugged. It wasn't like they were going over anything radical today. He plodded down the stairs and slid into the seat, watching Claire's shoulders stiffen.

Her pen started tapping viciously against her note book, her fresh page already labeled with the date and day 2. He sighed and dated his own page as the professor walked in.

Just before the class could begin, Claire turned to him, her eyes hot, boring into his. "You're such an asshole" she hissed quietly.

Not quietly enough.

"Is there a problem Miss Standish?" professor McKay drawled.

Claire's face reddened. "Um, no, sir. Sorry, I…um" she stumbled.

"What Miss Standish here is saying, sir, is that she had simply been making a comment on the draft I was showing her this weekend," John offered in his smirking tone. "You see, sir, I had drawn up a design for a house, and Standish here pointed out that the support beams weren't nearly strong enough." John smiled, his tone sincere, as Claire narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yes, sir, that's right," she said sweetly as she turned around.

"Well, I'm glad to see you two are so enthusiastic about the course. You'll be project partners for the semester then." Professor McKay noted something in a small book before moving on to the lecture of the day, and assigning the rest of the student's project partners.

As the class ended and the hall cleared, neither John nor Claire moved, waiting each other out. Finally, Claire huffed and gathered her books, heading towards the door. John followed at her heels. At the door to the hall she whipped around.

"I mean it," she said heatedly. "You're an asshole, and I'm pretty sure you're hell bent on tormenting me this semester. But," she held up a hand, pausing. "But…I appreciate it. You didn't have to help me out but you did. Thank you," she finished quietly.

John looked at her, unsure how to respond. Finally, he took a deep breath, and held out his hand. "Start over?" he asked hopefully. Claire stared at his hand suspiciously before shaking it.

"Hi, I'm John Bender. I'm a complete asshole, and I have a bad case of foot in mouth disease when it comes to hot girls, and serious commitment issues," his tone was sarcastic, but he knew his face looked serious. Claire blushed.

"Hi, I'm Claire Standish. I tend to be a total bitch, and I suffer from a complete inability to react in a sane way when I don't get what I want."

Whatever he'd expected, that hadn't been it, but the tension between them immediately lessened.

"Well, my lady bitch, may I walk you to class?" John offered with a smile. Claire returned it and inclined her head. "I'd appreciate that, my lord asshole," she replied with a quiet laugh.

As they left the hall, smiling, they didn't notice the two heads that followed them, one blond, one black.

"So is it just me, or does it seem like they both have multiple personalities?" Brian murmured into Allison's ear. She shrugged. "If they do," she replied, "Things are going to be really interesting in the bedroom."

They both giggled, watching the pair as they left the design building. As soon as he'd seen her on Saturday, Brian had told Allison about the pictures on John's desk, and their conversation. Allison, in turn, had talked about her conversation with Claire.

"Is this a good idea, Brian? I mean…there's a lot of history with them. I just don't want to see Claire hurt again," Allison said in a worried tone.

"Statistically, they don't have a chance…But, they're not kids anymore, Ali. I say we don't do anything one way or the other. I've missed John, you have too. And we both know Claire did. So….I would say we do nothing to encourage, or discourage. We're just…their friends." Allison mulled that over, nodding.

"Race you to the dining hall!" she chirped. She sent Brian into a wall and ran off. Brian smiled and shook his head.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Breakfast Club. I make no profit from this work.

WARNING: Lemon (sort of)/Sexual references. If this makes you uncomfortable, please skip the last page of the chapter.

Chapter 9

Claire flopped down on her couch, kicking off her shoes with a wince. She had gone for a run before work instead of going to the gym, and just at that moment, she felt like someone had set her feet on fire. As she rolled her neck, trying to stretch out some of the tension knots, the phone rang. She briefly contemplated ignoring it, but figured it could be Allison needing a ride home from work

"Hello?" Claire tried to keep from sounding annoyed.

"Hey, Claire, Sheila here. We've got an issue," came the chipper voice from the other line.

Claire rolled her eyes. Sheila was a friend from school who sang in a rock band, the Dirty Bones. Claire could guess what the issue was: Missy, their rhythm guitarist who occasionally quit the band only to come back a week later. Claire had filled in for them here and there, and she enjoyed it, but it was getting old to play fill-in girl.

"Missy is no longer with us. We made a band decision, and we don't want her in the group anymore. She just doesn't take it seriously, and she's blown off our last two practices. So…We were kind of hoping that you'd be interested," Sheila confirmed Claire's suspicions.

Claire blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and looked to the corner where her guitar stood. She loved playing, and had since she picked it up in freshman year. Still, noodling around for your own entertainment and actually playing with a purpose were two different skill levels.

"Geez Sheila, I don't know. This semester's going to be tough. I've been working more, and Ali and I are trying to get RS together," Claire mumbled.

"Oh, come on, Claire!" Sheila chided. "How about this: Come to the practices these next couple weeks, play our show with us next Saturday and we'll take it from there. Please? Please please please with a hot guy on top?" Claire rolled her eyes at Sheila's choice of sundae toppings.

On the one hand, the thought of actually playing live sent an excited shiver up her spine. On the other hand, it made her stomach twist into knots. This was not a good idea, no way in hell was this a good idea, but…

"When are practices? And what show?" she asked, giving in.

"Oh, yay! I knew you'd say yes, you're so the greatest Claire! So, practices are on Tuesday, Thursday, and a long session on Saturday. Can you make all of them?"

Sheila gave her the times, and Claire checked her work and class schedule, nodding.

"Yeah, the Tuesday Thursday times will be tight, but I should be able to. Where is the show? And what's the set list?" Claire enquired. She had picked up her music book, flipping through the songs she knew by the Dirty Bones. As Sheila rattled them off, Claire nodded again. They were, fortunately, all songs she knew how to play, so no worries there. The show would be at Emerald's, a popular biker/rocker bar a few blocks down from her apartment. The people there tended to make Claire a little nervous, but the beer was cheap and the music was good.

They said their goodbyes and rung off the line after a few more minutes, agreeing that they'd see each other at Francine's house the next night at 7.

Claire replaced the phone in the cradle and returned to her reading. Tuesday she had Art History 2 and Human Sexuality. Both made her mildly nervous, but for very different reasons. She had already had the professor for AH2 in Art History last year, and she knew she was an exacting task-mistress. As for Human Sex…Even looking through the book had Claire blushing. True, she wasn't a virgin anymore, but she wasn't exactly _experienced_ and most of the pictures were horrifyingly graphic. Especially in the chapter on reproduction and birth. Claire made a mental note to never, ever, get pregnant.

Just as her eyes were starting to cross from reading too much tiny text, she heard the front door being unlocked. She looked up to see Allison in the entrance, followed shortly by a grinning Brian. She smiled and greeted them. Allison dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and a wink before heading to her bedroom where Brian already was.

Claire sighed, pulling on her headphones. At least someone was going to be having a fun night.

* * *

Andy wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and swore he would not look at his watch again. He was waiting in a booth at Emerald's and was currently considering just leaving. Cliff was late, and Andy was rapidly developing a complex.

_ Ok, maybe if I leave now, I can just go drop by Claire's house. She lives by here. Yup, ok, that's a good idea. I'm going to Claire's. That's not weird. Friends drop in on friends all the time. Ok. Yeah, he's 17 minutes late, he's not coming, going to Claire's. Here we go._

But, Andy's legs seemed to currently be having a disagreement with his brain, and they stubbornly refused to carry him up and out of the bar. Instead, he found himself picking up the menu and looking at it.

"Oh, good, you are still here," came a breathless voice behind him.

Andy took a minute to turn and look at Cliff. His long blonde hair was pulled back at the base of his neck. His green t-shirt hung perfectly over his well-muscled torso, and his black jeans fit him like a dream. Oh, so definitely worth the wait.

"Of course I'm still here," Andy replied with a grin. "A few minutes late isn't exactly a game-ender, y'know?" He said it smooth, like he hadn't just been about to bail out.

Cliff sat, evaluating Andy. His blond high'n'tight shone even in the dim lights of the bar. His tan skin was perfect, and his green eyes glinted with hidden promise. Cliff felt his mouth dry out a bit as he looked over Andy's muscled arms. _Minemineminemine_ squeaked a voice in his head excitedly. Cliff closed his eyes, lest Andy see a bit of that reflected there.

Cliff signaled for the waitress, and they placed their orders after agreeing to share buffalo wings and French fries.

They talked about their interests, and discovered they were both huge fans of the Culture Club, Phantom of the Opera, and paintball. Andy invited Cliff to come see his rugby team, The United, on Saturday, and was a bit surprised when Cliff agreed. He found himself blushing at the thought of Cliff screaming for him, cheering him on, as he sat with his friends in the bleachers. His blush deepened when that led to an image of Cliff encouraging him in a distinctly different, though no less physical, situation.

Andy hadn't really dated all that much since his realization. There simply weren't that many guys that interested him. Cliff, though, he could see himself being very content with. Claire and Allison seemed to like him, and that was important, since they knew Andy better than he knew himself usually.

Andy looked at his watch, guiltily. It was already 12, and he had morning shift at the gym, which meant getting there for 5:30.

"Time to go?" Cliff asked in a soft voice. Andy nodded, annoyed that it was.

"It's alright. I'll see you at school tomorrow, right?" Cliff asked as he stood. Andy grinned, dropping money on the table.

"I'd really like that," he replied as they headed to the door. They walked to their separate cars, not quite daring to touch, but close all the same.

"You should come to Claire and Allison's Friday," Andy blurted out as Cliff went to shut his door. Cliff looked at him questioningly. "I mean, we have this dinner thing every couple of weeks. We get together, watch a movie. It's fun. I mean, that is, if you're not busy or anything, um…"Andy trailed off, embarrassed.

Cliff climbed back out of his car. "I'd love to. Rehearsal's out at 7. It'll be something to look forward to." Placing a soft kiss on Andy's cheek, he got back into his car.

As he watched Cliff drive away, Andy couldn't help the grin that lit his face. For the first time in forever, Andy had someone. He wasn't the fifth wheel anymore.

He smiled all the way home.

* * *

John Bender sighed and closed his eyes as he pressed his mouth to the throat of the girl beneath him. His hands trailed over her breasts as he tried to remember her name. Ashley? Ashlynn? Something like that. It didn't matter; he'd be out of there before morning anyway.

"Oh, John!" she panted, her breath hot on his ear. Well, at least she knew _his_ name.

As his mouth sought out and captured hers, as his hands dug into her hips, fingers gripping with a bruising force, he thought of Claire. As the girl's fingernails raked down his back, drawing blood, he remembered the brief crush of Claire's lips to his. He groaned, and moved his hips faster at the thought.

The girl -_Amy, That's her name!_- screamed at his more enthusiastic attentions, never guessing that they had nothing to do with her. As they rushed towards completion, only one name echoed in his head. _Claire,_ _Claire, Claire._ This was why he never used names in bed anymore. It was generally considered pretty déclassé to call a girl another girl's name.

Afterwards, as he dressed and watched the girl sleep, he had a brief pang of conscience. He knew he was doing something wrong, to be thinking of Claire while he was with other girls, but he couldn't help it. She owned him, heart and soul.

As he drove home, he wondered if she knew she did.

Not for the first time, John Bender wondered how the hell he'd come to this.

A/N: Wait! Don't throw bricks! I know, I know! But, honestly, if you're a Bender fan, can you really picture him staying celibate for three years? I couldn't (obviously). Don't worry! It'll all work out, I promise.

As always, huge thanks need to be given to Benderz-Princess, SleepEnBeauty, The Moofinator, and faux-prada. Thank you so much for taking the time to review, and your continued reading. It means a lot to know my words are entertaining people, rather than simply being lost in the ether.

Also, I'm not sure how long this will be, but to give an idea of timing, these chapters have all taken place over a four day period in September, and I just finished up a chapter that happens some time around December, so…This'll probably be a long one : )


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own rights to the Breakfast Club. I make no profit. This work of fiction is strictly written for the amusement of my black little heart.

Chapter 10

Saturday morning found Cliff sitting with Andy's friends beside the local soccer field. Claire had laid out a blanket, and they were drinking coffee from a thermos that she had brought with her. Cliff, as he had left his house that morning, had remembered that he used to like eating a few orange sliced at the half time when he played soccer, so he had brought those along as well. Claire had informed him, in no uncertain terms, that she thought that was the "god-damn cutest thing" ever.

Cliff watched the field, trying to pick out Andy. It had rained the night before. When Cliff expressed his concern over the condition of the field, Andy had just laughed.

"This is rugby, sweetie. No such thing as a match being called on account of mud."

So now, here they all were. Cliff tried not to be nervous. He knew that, when he was, he would stutter, and say foolish things. He glanced over at the young couple on his left: Brian and Allison, if he remembered correctly. They were adorable, sitting together, fingers intertwined. If you didn't know any better, you would think that they were heavily into the first stages of puppy love. Cliff had been surprised when Andy had told him the night prior that they had been together two years.

The two that sat on his right were a conundrum, though. He watched as the boy (_Benton? No, Bender_) leaned his head in and mouthed something into Claire's ear. Claire giggled and responded with a light smack to his arm and a softly murmured "Jerk". Quite the difference from the interaction he'd witnessed only a week ago.

He recalled Andy's terse explanation that they had dated in high school, and things hadn't gone well. Things certainly seemed to be going well now, Cliff noted with a small smile. His brief interactions with Claire had already left a mark on him. The simple fact that she seemed to have a rabid defense of Andy's heart showed that she would be a loyal friend. The fact that she had accepted his sexuality without question showed that she really could be as kind as Andy had painted her.

The man next to her, though, he made Cliff wary. One look in his eyes had shown him a completely different side than the affable front he put on. There was danger there, and a great potential for destruction, both of himself and those around him. Cliff made a note to tread very lightly where Bender was concerned, and to watch over his interactions with Claire in Andy's stead.

* * *

"So, now the wrestling's starting to make sense. Rage issues too," John murmured low in Claire's ear.

"Jerk" she responded with a light slap to his arm.

John just smiled at her. No one in the world had ever been more surprised than John Bender had been when Claire invited him to join her at Andy's game at the end of class Friday. Was it a date? Obviously not. Was it an excuse to spend some time with her where they weren't yelling? Yes indeed. And for now, that would have to be enough.

"So, what can you tell me about this?" he asked, gesturing towards the field.

Claire bit her lip, frowning, eyes still on the field.

"I don't really know all that much. I've never been a huge fan of sports, so I don't totally get the rules. I know Andy plays as a forward, and that their job is pretty much to get the ball and run it down the field. Beyond that…He's tried to explain it, but sports rules just make my brain hurt," Claire shook her head, knowing how stupid that statement sounded.

John nodded. "It's alright. I was just curious. What's this that they're doing?" He pointed at a huge huddle in the middle of the field. It looked like every player from both teams had suddenly just pounced on each other.

"That I do know," Claire said, sounding relieved. "That's called the scrum, and it's pretty much a fight for the ball. That's one of the ways they can start the game back up when it stops. Someone must have violated one of the smaller laws. I didn't see which one," she murmured. _I was too_ _damn busy looking at you _remained unspoken.

They watched the field, remaining quiet for a time. Suddenly, Claire jumped up, shouting, as did all the other people on their side of the field, some wearing United shirts. Something good must have happened.

"What was that about?" John asked when Claire resumed her place beside him.

She glanced over, wanting to keep her eyes on the field, not wanting to keep her eyes on the man who'd broken her heart so easily. She sighed, and gave in, facing him.

"That was a try. It's kind of like a touchdown in football. They just picked up five points because they were able to get the ball to touch down in the Breakers side of the field."

John nodded, staring at her lips as she spoke. He could really give a rat's ass what the game was about. He didn't go much for sports outside of football, basketball, and occasionally hockey. He really just wanted to keep Claire talking so he could keep watching her lips do something, even if it was just form words.

Even the thought of Claire's lips doing that simple task brought him right back to a dream he'd woken from that morning, and he shifted uncomfortably in his now-tight work pants.

_John was sitting with Claire in the library as they worked on a project for class. Other than the occasional shuffle of papers, the scratching of pens over drafts, there was no sound. They were alone in the microfiche room, legs just touching under the tables as they worked._

_ Suddenly, Claire looked up, catching John's eyes with her gaze._

_ "I can't even tell you how much I've missed you, Bender," she murmured huskily. His tongue flashed out to lick his now dry lips as she stood, crossing around the table. Her hands on his shoulders were surprising, but then there was no room left for shock._

_ Her lips came crashing down on his, biting at him, her tongue wrestling his for control. John loosed a growl and pulled her down to him, fisting his hand in her hair as his other hand grasped her hip. Claire straddled his lap, making soft sounds against his mouth as her hands ran over his body, nails dragging down his arms, up his shirt, scratching down his back._

_ Her mouth released his as she dipped to attack his throat, laving her tongue over the pulse point there, nibbling along his collarbone. His hands roamed over her, finding their familiar place on her thighs, hiking up the skirt that she wore. Her own hands ran down, tugging at the buckle over his jeans…_

And then, he'd woken up, cursing out his alarm for screeching just as things had gotten good. Now, here he sat, next to the girl who had once again featured in his dreams and left him breathless and swollen come morning. Unfortunately, he didn't see these lips being anywhere near the places they'd been in his imaginings. As a matter of fact, John Bender was quite sure that he was completely screwed when it came to Claire. Not in the good way either.

He looked down at his watch, noting the time. He had to be at work for 11:30, and it was already 10:45. If he rushed out, now, he'd make it to the job site on time.

"Well, Cherry, this has been a wonderful education about the physical arts," he drawled sarcastically. "But it looks like you'll be doing without my conversational services for the rest of the game."

"Oh, you have to leave? Work?" Claire questioned. John simply nodded. If he spoke, he'd have to think. If he thought, he'd have to not do what he was about to.

Kneeling up, he rested his hand on the side of her face, locking his eyes with hers. Not giving her time to agree, or disagree, he leaned in and brushed her lips with his, holding himself back from making it anything deeper. Friends kissed friends all the time, right?

Yeah, that's why he was up and running not ten seconds later, afraid that he'd just made a huge mistake.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the length of time between updates. I've been writing a couple of other fics (one of which is currently up – The Legacy Chronicles) as well as working on my own personal novels. This chapter made me…nervous. It's necessary for later chapters, but feels almost like filler at first. So please, review and let me know what you think. As always, a heaping load of thanks to my reviewers. Every time I read a review, I do a happy fan-girl dance.

See you next chapter,

Nifty


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own the plot bunnies, and their hutch, but none of the rights to the Breakfast Club, or any of the lovely characters. Poo.

Chapter 11

Monday.

Claire Standish was not a girl who liked contradictions. When people's mouths would say one thing, but their actions would indicate another, she found it unsettling. She knew she used to be like that, in high school, perky and bubbly when on the inside she just felt cold. But since that time she had prided herself on her straightforward nature, always striving to be honest about what she was thinking and feeling.

She sat, fuming, in her car, perfectly manicured red nails tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. At the moment, she was the embodiment of a contradiction. As she had watched Bender walk away, after he had kissed her, on Saturday, she had fallen into an internal battle which she seemed to still be fighting.

First, there was what her brain thought: _A small, simple kiss was a logical_ _progression, a tender goodbye between budding friends_. Then, there was what her heart felt: _Dear God, please don't let him do this, don't let him sweep in and smash me up_ _again. We're out of super glue_. Finally, there was her body, traitor that it was. _Holy shit, he slammed me up against the car first time he saw me, now he's taking it slow, but I don't want it slow! Seriously, looking for a new set of hands, and he's wearing them!_

Claire's frown deepened. Yes, a complete walking contradiction, and in this state she Was Not Happy. Now, she had to go into a lecture hall with him there and focus on whatever the professor had to say about zoning and lines and scales and blah, blah, blah when she would much rather be focusing on John's lips and _her_ zones. GAH! There was the body, rearing its ugly, wanton head again.

Claire exited her car, slamming the door with a viciousness that had other students avoiding her path. Damn it, she was a strong woman. She'd fought long and hard to come to peace with herself, and John Bender was not going to come back into her life and rattle it up again.

She entered the building, resolving to speak to him after class. But how to let him know? There was only a minute left before class. She took a seat in back of him, deviating from her normal routine of sitting in the very front row.

Ah, that's a good idea.

With a smirk, she aimed a kick at his chair, and felt gratified when he yelped quietly, before turning to fix his molten brown gaze on her face. He smiled, at first, and then frowned when he read the darkness in her eyes.

_After class_ Claire mouthed to him as she nodded at the door. Frown deepening into a scowl, John nodded. Glare for glare, they challenged each other until the professor began speaking. Annoyed to have to give way in uncertain territory, John turned moodily and pretended to take notes.

* * *

John had spent Saturday and Sunday completely distracted. After he had left her on the soccer field, her taste still fresh on his mouth, he'd felt like he was in a daze. Sure, it hadn't been some clawing, screaming sex session, which would have been the hottest thing ever, but damn did her lips feel good under his.

Now, Monday, he was nervous, and John Bender was not a man who dealt with that particular feeling well. Nerves made his palms sweat, made his stomach roil and turn in a way that reminded him far too much of his father.

He sat in the hall, watching the lower door, waiting for her to walk through it. How had she taken his kiss? Would she be elated? Think nothing of it?

Would she be pissed?

A sharp kick to his chair and he whipped around to stare into furious orbs in a pinched face.

Pissed, apparently.

So, they'd talk after class. John turned around, mentally kicking himself for even thinking this could have gone any other way. Of course she was pissed off! He'd never gotten a chance to sit down and explain his reasons for leaving, never had a chance to tell her that she was all he had thought about in his time away.

His frown deepened as he ticked off every single fuck-up he'd made in his relationship with Claire. Allowing it to happen seemed to be the most glaringly obvious one, though. He'd known from the get-go that he wasn't a one woman type of guy, he'd even told her so to her face. Instead of doing the right thing, breaking it off when he started getting the tingling in his skin that told him this was more than hormones, he'd let it go, and it had gone too far.

He couldn't undo the past, couldn't change the fact that they'd been stupid kids convinced that they could change the world and the restrictions placed on them by the expectations of society. He could try to set it right, now. He would…

* * *

Claire was up and storming out the door of the classroom as soon as the professor was through with the evening's homework assignment. She didn't look back to make sure John was following her. She could feel his eyes on her, blazing a path across her skin. She cursed softly and wondered when it was she had allowed herself to become so hyper-aware of his presence.

She stopped short, ducking into one of the campus' "thinking" alcoves, small areas with benches surrounded by shrubs on one side and three walls on the others. She plopped herself unceremoniously on the bench and he followed suit.

Claire felt her mouth open, but words wouldn't come. She had been so angry, earlier, and she had an entire tirade prepared about how he had no right to do this to her, had no right to touch her or make her feel this way anymore. Unfortunately, here she was, sitting next to him, and all she was able to focus on was the fact that he smelled really good, and the fact that his light flannel sleeves didn't keep his warmth from radiating through and caressing across the skin on her arms. _Not good, not good! Focus Standish!_

She stood and paced the small area like a caged tiger, just to give her body somewhere to divert all the excess energy that her anger had created. She flicked her eyes up, caught on to his, flicked them back down to the ground. She opened her mouth again, hoping maybe this time her synapses would fire, somehow connect to her vocal chords. Nope. She snapped her jaw shut with a quiet growl of frustration.

"So, princess, I thought you wanted to talk?" John's smirking lips pouted and pursed as he said the word talk, allowed the sarcasm to roll off his tongue just right. Claire stopped so short that the rings on her belt rattled. She spun on her toe and faced him, leaning down and pushing into his face.

"You listen to me, John Bender," she hissed menacingly. "We'll talk, but right now I'm trying to convince myself that ripping your heart out and showing it to you isn't worth the prison term. So, if I were you, I'd cut the sarcasm and wait. Ok, bucko?"

John stared right back at her, unafraid, before holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Ok, cherry. Whatever you want."

"And stop with the fucking nicknames. My name is Claire, C-L-A-I-R-E!" She spelled it out for him, like one would for a curious two year old. He frowned mulishly at her tone, but decided to take the high road, and didn't rise to her bait.

She paced again for another minute before finally sitting back down next to him.

"Look, John," she began in a calm, quiet tone. "These past years have been…really hard for me. I've had to work harder than I've ever had to work for anything in my life, just to get myself to a place where I feel ok. When I was with you…" Claire paused, taking a deep shuddering breath and blinking at the betraying tears standing in her eyes. "When I was with you, I let my life become about you. What could I wear that you'd like? What could I say that would make you smile? What could I do to make you happy?" She snorted. "I treated my relationship with you the same way I treated the one with my parents. I never really tried to please myself, just let you do it for me. So when…So when what happened, happened…I was devastated." The word came out choked, as if she had to fight to get the truth up her throat and through her lips.

As soon as she finished speaking, John felt like he was approximately two inches tall. All this time, since he had started here and first seen her, he'd been thinking about himself, how he would get her back, how he'd make her love him again, forgive him. He hadn't once thought about the fact that this may not be the best thing for her. Now, turning his head to look at her face, to see the honest pain there, he wished he had.

"Claire," his voice cracked around her name, and he cleared his throat. He dug through his pockets and pulled out his cigarettes. He touched one to his lips and lit it, then held the pack out to her. She took one with shaking fingers, and leaned into his offered light hesitantly. They both inhaled, letting the chemicals and toxins calm shattered nerves.

"Claire…I've been working, too. I went to the community college, worked my way through night classes, got myself a scholarship. When I got accepted here…I have to admit, I was pretty excited. New school, new people, all that. It was an excuse to get out of Shermer. Through out all this time, though…" He paused, weighing his options. Go for full disclosure and hope for the best? Or half-truths, and leave them both wanting?

"All this time, ever since that night at the party…You're all I've thought about. I mean, shit, Claire. You dug your claws in deep, and never let go. I was so stupid in love with you…It scared the shit out of me. I wasn't your type, didn't run with your kind, my parents couldn't have gotten within 200 yards of your parents country club if they weren't in uniform…It was just too much, there were too many expectations. I wasn't ready for it." John shrugged, indicating there wasn't much to do about it now.

Claire was silent for a time, and she had sucked her lips in between her teeth. She took another drag off her cigarette and let the smoke billow out the side of her mouth in one long, slow exhale. John watched its progress, just for an excuse to watch her lips. Finally, she laughed, a short dry, noise without any real humor in it.

"So, basically…We're both sad fucking bastards? Is that the moral of the story?" Her voice was heavy with…resignation? Realization? John couldn't tell.

"You skipped part. We're sad bastards without each other," John filled in for her. Claire shook her head and rolled her eyes, uttering another little snort that John was beginning to find cute as hell.

She stood, collecting her bag and slipping the strap over her shoulder. She made to walk away as he got to his feet. Nope, not allowed to happen. They hadn't really said anything important, and he still had more pressing concerns than he'd had time to voice.

He snatched her wrist, dragged her back to him. When she moved to back away, he wrapped his arms around her, crossing over her arms and trapping them to her body. He stared down into her eyes, saw the confusion, the fear…and the blatant lust. _Perfect_. He latched on to the latter, and refused to let go.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers, slow at first, gentle. When she didn't respond, he opened his lips, running his tongue gently over her mouth. Claire made a small, mewling noise in the back of her throat, relaxing slightly, and her mouth opened under his gentle barrage. He loosened his arms, and couldn't stop the smile that spread when he felt hers snake up around his neck, pressing them closer together.

The kiss was three years of pent up want, desire, anger. There were too many emotions swirling between them to be able to pick just one. As John's hand fisted in her hair, his world shrank to her lips on his, her teeth grazing his tongue. As Claire's nail raked lightly over John's arm, her world shrank to the press of his hips to hers, and how goddamn much his mouth felt like home.

When they finally pulled away, coming up for air, they were panting, sweating under clothes that had felt light in the morning but now were incredibly heavy.

"Uh…" John began elegantly.

"Urm…" Claire replied with eloquence.

They stared at each other, both afraid to speak, neither wanting to lose the moment. Claire got her wits back first.

"I've gotta…um…go. I've gotta go, I've got…Um…Classes, yeah…And…Fuck!" With her short expletive, she turned on her heels and ran. John could hear the quiet staccato of her passage, and knew she would run the whole way to the parking lot. For his part, he sat back down on the bench they had vacated, adjusting to alleviate his growing discomfort.

"Smooth, Bender," he mumbled to himself, lighting a fresh cigarette. He had pretty much just thrown all his conscious plans out the window, he'd pushed her, and he knew it. Had she been crying as she ran? That seemed to be his greatest effect on her. Crying, and lust.

"Real smooth."

He hung his head, and wished he had some clue what to do next.

* * *

A/N: I know….It's been halfway to forever since I've updated. I kind of hit a wall running with this story. Between real life and Legacy, the muse has been frazzled. But…I will never, ever, EVER abandon a story! There's nothing I hate more than getting really attached to a plot, characters, etc…Only to realize that the author has left you hanging at a crucial moment. It almost feels like the author has betrayed their word. They made a promise to their readers, and left their part unfulfilled. Ahem…-steps of soap box- So, that being said, no worries there. I want to try to update more often…But if I do, the chapters may be shorter, somewhere around 1,000 words each. Thoughts?

To everyone who has reviewed since the last update, thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you guys, so much, and I appreciate your involving yourself in my story.

This chapter, I'm dedicating to the lovely Moofinator. I'd been sitting on a portion of it, and she whooped my bum into finishing it.

So, I'm not gone, this story is not forgotten…And don't throw rocks : D

Nifty


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